


Weapon in Hand

by ThirtySixSaveFiles



Series: Taking What Comes [2]
Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: A/B/O, M/M, Underage Character, Unhealthy Relationships, gangster au, jack is a major creeper, street rat au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 01:31:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7665085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of Rhys' favorite possessions came from Handsome Jack.</p><p>Or, how Rhys got the knife in <i>Blood in the Streets, Blood on the Walls</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weapon in Hand

**Author's Note:**

> This was another prompt fill from tumblr: "Rhack, One character adjusting the other's jewelry/neck tie/ etc," and I seized the opportunity to flesh out a little bit for this au.
> 
> Rhys is probably 16 or 17 in this part. This takes place a couple of years before _Blood in the Streets_.

Handsome Jack gives Rhys his first real suit of clothes.

Later, of course, he’ll give Rhys the name of his tailor, and Rhys will go there to get fitted for slacks and shirts with only one sleeve, but his first real  _ suit  _ that's not second-hand, that has a vest and a tie and everything, comes straight from Handsome Jack’s hands.

(It doesn't occur to Rhys to question how they fit so well. It occurs to Vaughn, but by now he's learned to keep his opinions about Handsome Jack's attention to himself.)

That’s later, though. Here and now Rhy holds the folded set of clothes carefully, as if he’ll break them. Which is dumb, he tells himself, they’re just  _ fabric _ \- but he’s never had a new set of clothes before, where every piece was made to go together and has never been worn by anyone else. His hand suddenly feels dirty, like he’s going to ruin the clothes just by touching them.

He looks up to find Handsome Jack watching him. “Go on,” Jacks says, the corner of his mouth pulling up. “Try them on. I want to see how they fit.”

Rhys looks down at the stack of garments in his arm. Try them on here? Now? He had thought maybe - 

It doesn’t matter what he had thought. Handsome Jack wants to see what Rhys looks like in the clothes he had had made for him, and Rhys warms under the weight of Jack’s interest.

He sets the clothes down on the table and starts unbuttoning his shirt. Jack leans back on his desk and watches.

Rhys doesn’t have much modesty left, not after so many years on the streets and then sleeping in the shared rooms with the other men for whom the gang was home. The room he shares now with Vaughn is the most privacy he can remember, and there’s still not much of that. So it’s not the fact that someone’s watching him that makes his cheeks heat as he peels his sleeve off and starts to work on his belt.

It’s the fact that it’s  _ Handsome Jack _ watching him, leaning against the desk with folded arms and an expression Rhys doesn’t quite know how to read. He shuffles out of his pants and into the new set of clothes. It takes him a little longer than usual, the weight of Jack’s regard making his fingers clumsy and unsure. He’s struggling a little with the fastenings on the vest when Jack steps forward and brushes his fingers away, doing up up the buttons himself.

“I can do it,” Rhys protests, but his breath catches a little at the brush of Jack’s knuckles over his stomach.

“I know you can,” Jack says, glancing at him, and it doesn’t sound like he’s humoring Rhys.

“This, however,” Jack leans over to the table and comes back with a strip of fabric. “This you might need some help with.”

Rhys looks at the necktie in Jack’s hands and - yeah, he probably can’t manage that one on his own. Jack looks a question at him, and Rhys nods. Jack loops the necktie over Rhys’ head and slides it under the shirt’s collar. The pressure on the back of his neck is firm, and it trips something in Rhys, an instinct he doesn’t understand. It makes him a little breathless, and he wants to follow that pull, to go where Jack wants him. Wherever Jack wants him.

Jack doesn’t seem to notice; he loops the tie closed in the front and begins the knot, and the pressure on Rhys’ neck eases. He’s surprised at the disappointment that floods him, and hopes that Jack will chalk the faint flush he can feel on his cheeks up to - to anything else, really. Jack hums faintly as he does up the knot, and he slides it up so it rests against Rhys’ throat.

Then he slides it up a little  _ further _ , so the tie tightens around Rhys’ throat, and Rhys stops breathing altogether.

Jack is watching him, eyes bright and interested, and Rhys selfishly never wants him to look away, so Rhys forces himself to keep breathing shallowly. The necktie doesn’t actually cut off his airway, just constricts it a little, so Rhys keeps breathing and keeps his eyes locked with Jack’s. His arm remains loose at his side.

If this is a test - and it might be - Rhys thinks that he passes, because Jack grins at him and loosens the tie without a word. He smoothes his hands over Rhys’ shoulders, over where some conscientious tailor has sewn up the right sleeve of the shirt, and steps back. He’s still looking at Rhys appraisingly, and Rhys soaks it up, revelling in the attention.

He shifts a little; the clothes feels good. A little stiffer than what he’s used to wearing, and the jacket still remains draped over the table, but Rhys thinks he could get used to this look.

He spreads his arm a little self-consciously. “How do I look?”

Jack laughs, and the sound curls something warm in Rhys’ belly, his whole body shifting forward minutely. “Like a million bucks, kiddo. Like a soft pampered omega.” Rhys frowns a little at that, but Jack’s not done. “Oh man, they are  _ never _ going to see you coming,” Jack finishes, and his smile is sharper than the blade he pulls out of his pocket.

“You know what to do with this,” and Rhys does. He takes the knife gently, reverently, and flicks it open experimentally. It flips open smoothly and locks into place without a stutter; he flicks his wrist again and it  _ snicks _ shut. It’s easily the finest blade he’s ever held.

He looks at Jack, who nods, looking pleased. “That’s yours too. I know you’ll put it to good use,” Jack smirks, and Rhys smiles back, tucking the knife away in his pocket.

Jack gives Rhys one more pat on the shoulder, then moves toward the door where he collects his coat from the rack. “Alright, time to get going,” he says, shrugging into the jacket. “We’ve got a date with the Cantonellis tonight, and I just know you’re going to make an impression.” He winks and opens the door, so Rhys gathers up his own jacket and follows. The knife is a comforting weight in his pocket, the clothes a gentle rustle against his skin, but best of all is the feeling of Jack’s regard even as they head outside to meet the waiting car. As Rhys slides into the backseat next to Jack, he looks up to find Jack watching him.

Jack reaches over and tips Rhys’ head up minutely, fingers lingering for a moment under Rhys’ chin, then leans back and nods to the driver. “Oh yeah, kid,” he chuckles, as they pull away from the curb. “You are gonna do  _ great _ .”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [ThirtySixSaveFiles](http://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


End file.
